Leah The Dropout

Why did her mom always drop her off right in front of the salon?

"Thank you for the ride, mother," Leah said in an icy tone, still mad about the fact that the woman had grounded her for 'talking back.'

Leah immediately regretted her choice of words -- she knew exactly how much she sounded like a bratty teenager right now. If she could have afforded a rideshare, she would have taken it instead. Or better yet, she could have driven herself if she hadn't gotten that illegal U-turn ticket that resulted in her parents dropping her from their insurance.

"You're welcome, dear. Try to smile at work today, okay? Don't look like such a sourpuss!" Leah's mother said as the girl shut the car door.

As Leah approached Mrs. Kim's nail salon, she could only sigh. How could her mom expect her to smile when she was about to spend the entire day massaging womens' feet and polishing their toes? And to earn barely any money, while wearing a degrading outfit all the while?

Although Leah was a slender girl, the stupid pink ballet slippers Mrs. Kim made her wear had wooden soles, so each step was accompanied by a loud clacking noise that announced her arrival. The dreaded shoes also had long, pink ribbons that she had to criss-cross up the entire length of her legs to tie off. She despised how girlish it all was, and people were always commenting on how 'cute' it looked. She was 22 years old, she didn't want to look 'cute!'

"Good morning Mrs. Kim," Leah said to the middle-aged Asian woman sitting behind the desk.

"Ah, Leah, good morning. You have very full schedule today. Take off your shoes and put on your apron please, the first customer is arriving soon."

Leah nodded, and sat on the nearby sofa to remove her ballet slippers. Per Mrs. Kim's request Leah wore them almost all the time, even when she was at home. They were custom-fit to her feet, and had special disposable plastic liners that fit on the inside -- Leah was expected to keep them full of expensive collagen lotion. The white gelatinous stuff would squish around the girl's feet with each step, causing a weird sensation that just made it easier for Leah to sit around and do nothing rather than go out.

Well, she sat as much as she could, but at home she was usually busy doing one chore or another for her parents so she could earn her allowance. The thought made her frown -- an allowance! It was like she was back in high school rather than 90% of the way through college.

Leah often dreamed of quitting this job and doing anything else, but she was essentially trapped here. Mrs. Kim had helped her out by purchasing some of her enormous student loans when she was right on the verge of forbearance. The brunette girl was so excited to be out from under her crushing debt that she didn't ask a lot of questions about the internship that Mrs. Kim wanted her to do in exchange.

Now here she was putting on the frilly white apron that, combined with her black dress, made her look like a maid. A barefoot maid: the salon had a silly gimmick that all the technicians remained barefoot during their shifts to show off the quality of their own pedicures.

Leah glanced down at her size 5 feet, cursing under her breath at the hot pink varnish she had on her nails. Mrs. Kim only seemed to allow Leah to wear the most juvenile colors, on the reasoning that Leah could demonstrate what the salon could offer to its younger customers. Other technicians favored black and red lacquers -- more mature colors. For Leah, though, the other manicurists always seemed to outdo themselves in finding some new way of making her look ridiculous.

At least they didn't make her wear the sparkly polish today.

Leah's first customer stormed into the salon, a mature blonde woman in her 40s talking away on her phone about some important business deal. She took a seat before Leah and put her feet on the pedicure stand, looking at the brunette girl expectantly.

Leah winced, hoping the blonde woman didn't notice. She absolutely hated this part of the job. Mrs. Kim was watching, though, so Leah smiled and said:

"Hi, I'm Leah Grace, I'm your... foot tender today. May I help you with your shoes?"

The woman nodded, and Leah leaned forward to remove the woman's high heels for her. There was an entire ritual built around this: Leah had to rest one hand on the woman's ankle, then gently ease the footwear off and place it carefully on the ground.

Immediately, Leah noticed the odor of leather and sweat fill the air -- the woman had obviously been running around this morning. Leah started the 'inspection' that was the next part of the pedicure, leaning in to look at the woman's meaty soles more closely. How did such a ridiculous ritual catch on with people?

The woman had wide feet, and her black nail polish had grown out a little. There was the slightest hint of callus on her otherwise soft soles. Leah cringed inwardly as she continued her routine: she ran her hands gently up and down the woman's bare feet, to 'greet the customer' as Mrs. Kim liked. Leah's touch was firm as she felt for more calluses, rubbing every inch of the woman's clammy feet. Some crumbly residue came off on her hands, and she suppressed a shudder.

The next part was the only time she was permitted to wear gloves -- to use acetone and cotton balls to remove the woman's old nail polish. As soon as that part was done, Leah had to toss the gloves and use her bare hands to massage all sorts of expensive creams and oils into the woman's tired feet.

"Yeah I bought it for 1.5 million and sold it for 2.3. It's a bull market right now," the blonde woman said later, as Leah pushed back the cuticles on her toes.

Leah felt the color rising in her cheeks as she thought of the unfairness of this whole situation.

This time last year, she was living with her (now ex) boyfriend and attending fascinating college lectures. She had published a few papers, and felt like a rising star in academia. Then, at the worst possible time, her parents made a surprise visit and found out she was living with a boy. She tried to shut out the memory of the screaming match she had with her mother that day. What else was there for her to focus on though? This rich woman's bare feet?

"Sweetie, could you go over my cuticles again? I see a hangnail down there," the woman said, covering her phone's receiver with one hand and giving Leah a critical look.

"Yes, of course!" Leah chirped, reaching for the nippers again.

Leah hated words like 'sweetie' or 'honey' or any other term that belittled someone in the name of affection. She had dedicated an entire chapter of her thesis to this: how language helps establish control in subtle but important ways. Now here she was, perched on a little stool, an utterly controlled servant tending to wealthy womens' feet. Whenever they called her 'sweetie' or 'honey' she could only nod, and obey them that much quicker.

The irony was enough to make her scream, but if she displeased Mrs. Kim the woman could easily sell her loans to a predatory lender and Leah's entire life would go up in flames. So she put on a fake smile -- another thing she had ranted against in her papers -- and did as she was told.

Now came the most challenging part: applying the nail polish.

Leah had always assumed it was easy, but it actually required a steady hand and a great amount of skill to get an even coat. She had to stop drinking her beloved morning coffee to reduce the amount her hands trembled, and even then Leah's polish jobs were often uneven and splotchy. This time was no exception: despite Leah's best efforts, she had to re-do the woman's polish twice, which ate up a lot of time. The woman was visibly frowning when Leah finally managed to get an even coat on all of her toes. After Leah helped her put on the disposable pedicure sandals, she didn't even say 'thanks.'

Leah was stooped over gathering her things when Mrs. Kim approached. As usual, she put one arm over Leah's shoulder in a way that really emphasized their height difference. She leaned a little too close to Leah's ear, apparently so that no one would hear what she said.

"Try to do better on this next customer, okay Leah? We can't have you remain an apprentice forever."

A quick glance around the salon revealed that two technicians were watching this little encounter with knowing grins.

As an apprentice, Leah was only allowed to do pedicures. She could swear that Mrs. Kim and the other Vietnamese techs enjoyed having a white girl at the bottom of their totem pole. She suspected that they were deliberately keeping her there, but that could just as easily be blamed on her own poor performance. It also seemed like Mrs. Kim enjoyed pairing Leah with the wealthy Chinese women who would come in the salon, as some kind of role reversal. She stuck out like a sore thumb at the salon, and each of the Asian women would raise an eyebrow appreciatively when they realized a white girl would be slaving away at their feet.

"Oh, your next client is here." Mrs. Kim remarked casually.

Leah looked on in horror as she saw the blonde girl walk into the salon, flashing her dazzling smile. What was Meghan O'Conner doing here?!

Time seemed to slow down as the statuesque woman glanced around the salon. Leah thought back to high school and their old friendly rivalry. At this moment, she couldn't imagine anything more humiliating than Meghan O'Conner seeing her working at a nail salon. Well, except for --

"Leah? Heey! It's so good to see you! What, are you getting your nails done too? We can sit together!" Meghan said, loudly enough that the entire salon took notice.

Leah blushed uncontrollably and, considering her pale complexion, anyone could see it quite clearly. It felt like everyone was staring now -- Meghan always did know how to draw an audience.

"Hey Meghan," she muttered. "Actually, I work here. I will be doing your pedicure."

Meghan furrowed her brow and made an incredulous expression -- was there some disgust mixed in there too?

"What?" Meghan scoffed, obviously thinking this was a weird joke, "Come on, don't joke around! Take a seat, I'll pay for your service!"

Leah politely refused, and repeated that she was actually working here now.

"Shut. Up!" Meghan cried out, like she had just heard some juicy gossip, "you're like a... a nail technician now?"

The way Meghan said 'nail technician' made it clear her low opinion of the work. She couldn't seem to do away with that curious expression on her face; and she couldn't seem to process the fact that the great Leah Grace was about to do her toes.

Mrs. Kim showed up to smooth things over, which was helpful because Leah couldn't bring herself to do much of anything right now.

"Please sit!" the Asian woman said, leading Meghan to her chair.

"Leah is just an apprentice, but she works very hard. You two can catch up while she works on your feet."

Meghan shook her head and took a seat in the pedicure chair, stretching her impossibly long legs out towards Leah's stool.

"I'm like, amazed right now! What are you doing here?" Meghan asked as Leah moved to take her seat in the pedicure chair.

"I work for Mrs. Kim," Leah answered, mechanically sitting down. She knew what she had to do next, but the humiliation was almost too much to bear.

At first, Meghan reached for the clasps on her high heels, and Leah felt a wave of relief wash over her. But then, Meghan glanced around and seemed to remember something.

"Oh, that's right, here the technicians do this!" she said, placing both of her feet again on Leah's pedicure stand.

Leah glanced down at Meghan's pearl colored high heels. They were brand new, name-brand things that probably cost $800 or more. She swallowed, and reached for the tiny golden buckles that went around Meghan's narrow ankles, removing the girl's shoes for her.

"So how did you end up here?" Meghan asked. "Like, don't take this the wrong way, but I thought you would be at Harvard or something. Now you're here as a manicurist?"

Meghan seemed oblivious to the cutting nature of her remarks. She smiled as Leah slowly ran her hands up and down her bare feet to greet her. Meghan had very high arches and long, slender toes -- probably the nicest feet that Leah had seen at the salon so far. Leah cursed herself for observing something like that, and tried to focus on the conversation.

Leah explained her circumstances as she began Meghan's pedicure.

The blonde girl seemed genuinely sympathetic as Leah told her what had happened in her life that brought her here. As Leah filed Meghan's soles with an abrasive foot file, she unburdened herself and tried to ignore how the skin always seemed to fall onto from the womens' feet and onto her own dress and legs.

Leah explained how her parents considered her degree 'useless' and would not fund a master's in women's studies. She told Meghan how she had to drop out of college before even getting a bachelor's degree due to her mom's outrage to find her living with a guy --

"Wait, so you're a dropout?!" Meghan said incredulously, and loudly enough that several of the women in the salon took notice.

Leah blushed, and wished she were anywhere else right now. Laying her entire pathetic life in front of Meghan was the height of humiliation, made even worse by the fact that she was slaving away over the girl's feet. Leah had deleted all her social media profiles to avoid this exact sort of thing.

"Let's talk about you instead," Leah responded, trying to change the subject. Meghan nodded readily.

"Well, I'm here to celebrate my engagement!"

Meghan pointed to the ring on her left hand -- judging by the enormous size of the diamond, her soon-to-be-husband was loaded.

"My fiance booked me a half-hour foot massage, so we can talk things through. I want to find a way to help you, Leah -- I really looked up to you in high school," Meghan said.

Leah blinked. She would have to spend half an hour massaging Meghan O'Conner's bare feet and listen to the successful blonde girl lecture her on ways to improve her life?!

The years had been good to Meghan, but that had been clear from the beginning. Leah's former friend told her story, and although she was obviously being modest, Leah was still feeling incredibly jealous.

After Meghan graduated high school, she moved to New York City and pursued fashion design with dogged determination. Leah bitterly suspected that Meghan's stunning looks helped propel her meteoric rise: she had coltish legs, big firm boobs, and a tiny waist. All this, combined with her blonde hair and perfect complexion, made her look like a supermodel, or a movie star, or --

"So now I'm the lead fashion reporter for Vogue magazine! I'm the youngest woman to ever hold that title. Isn't that something?" Meghan asked as Leah kneaded her soles.

Leah could only nod politely. He hands were covered in pomegranate oil, scented with grapefruit. Was she even the youngest technician at Mrs. Kim's salon?

"Honestly, though, it can be very stressful!" Meghan whined in a cute way, and Leah could understand how this girl had gotten everything she wanted from life.

"But there are perks," she went on.

The girl had a lyrical way of speaking -- some of the other clients in the salon were even getting pulled into her story.

"Like, I have a personal assistant who basically does everything I want. She's a fashion designer from Ryerson: a skinny brunette fashionista and she's really desperate to make it up the ladder. She basically just follows me around and waits to do what I tell her. Like, that's literally her job! One day, I complained that my feet were sore from walking in heels all day and she actually gave me a foot massage right there in my office! Can you believe it?"

Leah was doing exactly the same thing right now, so she could definitely believe it. Meghan's feet were soft and pampered -- Leah barely needed to trim her cuticles.

"She has that model's physique, you know super skinny and almost twiggy? So sometimes I dress her up to see how certain styles look. It's actually very helpful to my work. I joked that she could move into my apartment and just dress up and massage my feet every day instead of paying rent."

"And then there's Declan," Meghan swooned.

"He's the most amazing guy ever. We met in Paris when I was on assignment at fashion week, and it was just... right. Like he's the right guy for me. I've met a lot of rich guys, and they're all the same: they want to show you off and expect you to worship them because they have money. But with Declan, there's something deeper."

Leah did her best not to scowl. She couldn't even remember what it was like going on a date with a guy. Leah's own ex-boyfriend, whom she had thought to be so smart and dedicated, had dumped her almost immediately after she had left school. Leah still remembered fighting back tears when she looked at his social media profile and saw him partying with some blonde bimbo in a little bikini a week after he had changed his relationships status.

Leah wasn't allowed to date now: part of her overbearing parents' rules.

Any visit from a boy had to be chaperoned, and Leah's parents made it clear that if she were caught sneaking around again they would send her to her aunt's house in Montana. Almost no guy wanted to deal with that kind of baggage, so they opted for easier-to-get girls while Leah stayed at home, waiting for something that increasingly seemed like it would never happen. Leah's parents even had her logins to her social media accounts; yet another reminder that she was not in college anymore and lacked the sorts of freedoms she had taken for granted.

"Hey, I have an idea!" Meghan said, drawing Leah's attention back to the present.

"I'm having a bachelorette party at my mom's house and Declan said we can hire someone to do beauty treatments. Would you want to do mini manicures or something? He said we can pay up to $400 for the job, and it'll only go for like 4 hours!"

Leah's eyes widened -- with that kind of money, she could afford her car insurance again! But then she thought of all it would entail: working Meghan O'Conner's party as a manicurist, a lowly servant, in the eyes of everyone she went to high school with. After some deliberation, Leah came to the conclusion that the money was more than worth a night of embarrassment.

"Okay, sure! Thanks," Leah said, and Meghan clapped her hands together and beamed a winning smile.

It reminded Leah of the way Meghan would smile back when she was a cheerleader, and it actually did manage to lift Leah's spirits a little.

Then Meghan handed Leah the nail polish, and the girl's spirits fell immediately. Meghan wanted red nail polish on her toes which as all manicurists know, is the most difficult color to work with. Leah struggled for a long time trying to put a perfect coat on Meghan's toes. It took her nearly half an hour, and she was deeply ashamed of the lumpy coat she had done.

Meghan inspected her pedicure, and frowned a little. There was an awkward pause between the girls, which made Leah feel even worse.

Mrs. Kim approached to inspect Leah's work -- something that Leah dreaded because of the woman's blunt and almost rude demeanor.

"Ooh, Leah, you need to do this again! Such a pretty woman can't have a bad pedicure," Mrs. Kim lectured, putting both hands on Leah's shoulders and using her body as leverage to lean down as she examined the girl's work.

"No, it's okay!" Meghan began, but Mrs. Kim cut her off.

"No, Leah must learn -- please let her do it again. It will be much better next time, I promise!" Mrs. Kim insisted, adding:

"I will get you some champagne, sit!"

That was all it took to convince Meghan, who took a phone call from someone in her office as Leah began painting her toes yet again. Truthfully, Leah did a much better job this time, and was actually proud of her work.